Heaven' Sent
by TinuvielxXx2018
Summary: Motherhood isn't easy, but it's a role to be filled, whether you like it or not. To Eva, it didn't matter that her boy's were young adults, or that Sparda was gone, she would see to it that role be fulfilled. . . To the very end.
1. Prologue - Sparda's wife

**Prologue - Sparda's wife**

* * *

She underestimated how cold it would be tonight. That wasn't like her at all. She couldn't run with this load to warm.

She's marching, but the night air is wicking her heat away faster than her body can replace it.

The woman could turn back of course, but then what? It's her job to finish. Its her fault she came with this issue during work. The blocks passed by in a blur, no one was out tonight.

Besides, if she slacked off, who knows what might happen.

The street lamp's reflections in the otherwise-black river stretched out like flaming stilts, ruffled by the cool breeze.

Her memories drifted back, slightly to the information she got about this..

* * *

. . .

* * *

The monster travelled as a cloud of barely-there yellow gas and entered its prey though the cerebrum. The victims knew nothing of the attack, except that they could smell something quite metallic.  
Afterward, they couldn't resist, they couldn't run away. . . According to the only survivor. In the dim light that oozes through a narrow gap lies the alleyway, where everything happened.

It became the underworld of this small town: gloomy and unpleasant.

The vines that crawl up window sills and the crumbling plaster that envelopes the old stone bricks seemed equivalent to the veins of a Daemon.

Darkness lurked in every corner within the labyrinth of narrow passages and dead ends. Litter dumped on the street, the birds nested amongst the sprawling rot.  
Suddenly, a muffled scream reverberated from behind her. The street lights flickered off and she was left with nothing but the orchestra of the urban city playing its eerie night music. . .  
The woman drew twin pistols, named Luce and Ombra, the flash light strapped to her belt clicked on and she prepared for what came.

"Show yourself." She whispered.

From the darkness, a husky voice came.

"Hello beautiful. . . It must be my lucky night a goddess such as yourself sought me out." A sound of thundering steps disturbed the silence as the creature moved out of the shade.

It's accent was strongly Bulgarian, fitting as it was a creature of unnatural wonder. It had the visage of a hulking man stitched to the body parts of a goat at the same time.  
Rudimentary horns poked out of it's dark hair, scaling up and ridging backwards in a curl. It's thick, woolen legs made harsh steps, looking like oversized lamb-legs.  
It was it's face that was most memorable, shark teeth and pure white eyes. The most disturbing grin painted it's rotten face, alongside a crooked, faustian nose that stretched out two inches.

"And a blonde one as well?" It rumbled, putting it's hands together in mock prayer, "Thank you lord."

"Now's no time to repent."

The beast growled and lunged her way. The woman flipped to the side, a massive arm crashing into the ground as it's horns nearly touched her cheek.  
She brought up both guns and fired off a double-shot, striking the creature in it's back. It made a sound and fell to it's knees for a moment, clutching it's lower back in pain.

The woman smirked at the pathetic sight.

"Name's Eva, you can know me as Ms. Sparda. Think again before you start abducting people for food."

"S-Sparda!?" The sense of panic was easily evident in it's ragged voice, but that was completely swept away within seconds.

A wicked smile resumed it's horrid face, and another horrible sight beheld her.

"Imagine what all the hellions will think when they know I've raped Sparda's whore. . . The celebration that would unfold."

The screaming had stopped so suddenly. One minute, it was right in her face, saliva dripping out from the rows of it's teeth, and the next he was meat on the floor.  
All it took was a quick flick of the wrist, and then a flinch of the fingers. Bang bang, liquified brain across the ground. It's body disintegrated before it could collapse on her.  
It was a surprise how little effort it had taken to get ride of him. A little squeeze and poof, gone in a flash.

Less trouble than preparing food for her sons and making it back quietly. It'd take a certain finesse, but in the dark it'll be easy to get away.

A silent justice, but justice nonetheless. Beasts like that need to be sent back to hell.

Eva sighed and stole herself back to the main road. Her mind went cuckoo over how the house would look.

No time to socialize with the locals, not that they even knew what had happened. That was fine for her, she didn't care. So long as demons like that are gone, she was happy.  
The entire ordeal left her feeling a little numb, also hungry. She thought to herself what to make when she got back home, perhaps pasta? Too carb-y. Maybe take out was in order?

She'll decide somehow.

* * *

. . .

* * *

She walked down the muddy track towards home and her heart both sank and rose all at once. A flame grew inside her chest, the thought of children roaming the streets, now victims of war.  
That was something she wouldn't stand for, not for the hypocrisy of her own species, nor for the hate of other blackened candidates. Blood is spilling on her watch.

Happier times were sadly a distant memory, where she first arrived to this home.

A newly-married madam, she couldn't wait to settle down and start a life there.

She hadn't forgotten his face, that goofy man she loved so much. Of all the things, it's the path that changed under years of footfalls and weathering.

She grew further to imagine what would meet her at the end of this, a place of more love and warmth than she'd had these countless days passed.

Eva marched to her front door, her fingers reaching out for that familiar doorknob. So it turned, and the Wiccan entered quietly, like usual.  
In her home was the scent of lavender, the delicate blooms in one or two old jam jars. The perfume brings out the delicate purple hue to the walls, psychologically.  
That very same shade painted spring forget-me-nots in the morning, a rather zealous way to spend the time. Still, it seemed better than the constant mire of a big city.  
There was nature here, growing all around. It gave her sense of closeness with the old forces of life, the ones that existed long before Christian preconceptions.

She never aspired to a large home, preferring cozy and small, the type of inviting abode you'd see in a rural landscape.

Its the perfect space for her needs, at least. . . Something the couple agreed upon.

This is their 'cottage' under the sky, or rather was. Furnished with everything rustic, the old was a simple stage for her new creations, new paintings daubed on perfect squares of canvass.  
A space was just space until you bring your own personality to it, make your mark, expressing what's sacred to you. That is, until the sight of broken dishes graced her sight.  
There were burn marks on the wall nearby and a chair was splintered into a tiny fragments upside down.

Eva rolled her eyes. . . Damn, again?

"Boyo's!" She dropped her voice down, like a drill sergeant, "Come out here, right now."

Her voice was deep and angry, demanding attention even if you didn't want to give it any. After a moment of silence, a door opened and two boys around the age of 15 walked out.

One was wearing an all-black outfit, consisting of a dark biker vest over a grey sweater and black slacks with biker boots.  
His white hair was swept back and he spoke first.

"I was having the best sleep ever, I swear!" He yawned.

The other one was wearing a black Misfits t-shirt and a pair of brown cargos. Unlike his brother, his hair was covering his face.

"Heya madre, good to have ya back. . ." In general, this brother didn't seem to care about anything.

Eva crossed her arms and took a moment to breathe.

"How many times have I said 'no games inside the house?'" She said and pointed at the damage.

The boy in black spoke first.

"He started it. Provoked me into a match before bed."

"Too much pride to admit I beat you in chess, huh?"

The elder boy laughed nervously, "Shut up man, she's really mad this time."

In their heads, both were begging the other not to tell mom the real reason was a scrap over one of Dante's 'lady-friends.'  
He'd brought her over for some socialization and Vergil butted in, wanting to show himself the superior sibling. To give the young woman credit, she was rather beautiful.  
She'd gone before Eva could get home, and the two cleaned up the important evidence before she came through the door.

"Haah, I tell people I have crazy children and no one ever believes me. That's more money lost for food and more towards repairing the wall. . . For the third time this month."

Dante bowed his head.

"Sorry." It was genuine, despite being monosyllabic.

Vergil followed, "I'm sorry too, I will be more careful next time."

A sudden smirk accompanied the glare on her face. "You know it, I have a plan."

Vergil and Dante exchanged looks worried.

"Oh dear lord, anytime she says that. . ." Vergil whispered.

"Yeah. . . I know." Dante followed.

Eva's eyes first gazed upon her eldest son, "Vergil. . . Sweetheart, _you're_ going to get out and find a job that pays well, there're rumors going around about an abandoned street."

He raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, but cringed in his stomach at the prospect of working it.

"A number of people keep going missing there. Reward's a thousand bucks." Her statement made him

"Geh, stupid missing persons!" He tried to argue, but the look silenced him, "Fine, I'm on it, but not tonight. Any chance I can bring you or Dante, please?"

"Why ca-. . ." She paused, realizing what he meant, "Did you have the dream again?"

Vergil struck out with a particularly grim look in his eyes.

"It seems the same, but I don't know."

* * *

. . .

 _From darkness rang a howl that penetrated even the drone of traffic. Not far away, a trash can fell. I stopped, feeling so cold._

 _It sounded like a dog, but I couldn't be sure, and for some reason, I remembered you telling me to come straight home after something I usually do. . . Not sure what that is._  
 _The cry came again, this time more shrill and, without another thought, I headed into that gloomy alleyway. I don't remember why, I just felt I had to. My shoes splashed into newly made puddles._  
 _Then I felt a sharp pain in my neck._

 _The voice called out again. . . I could make out what it was saying this time._

 _'The time is near. . . Cold as steel_  
 _Ice shall fall from the heavens. . . People will die, staring blankly into the sky_  
 _Unaffected and undistracted. . . The earth shall move to swallow. . ._  
 _Light shall become dark. . . Your reflection will remind you_  
 _In their image are you born, creatures of destruction bringing forth their storied scorn. . ._  
 _Cold as steel, underneath broken skin you shall wait, and you will meet the one who will show you how to die. . ._

. . .

* * *

Any sense of happiness faded away the moment she remembered it, _that dream._ What does it mean? There's no one following Vergil. If so, why? More importantly, who?

"Vergil, it's just a dream, man" Dante commented.

"A dream I've had four times in a row? Maybe it hasn't happened." He replied, shaking his brother's shoulder.

"I'm worried that something may come after us." In a time like this, Eva wished Sparda was still around.

Maybe he could figure this out and try to avoid whatever disaster might be coming their way.

"Anyway, I'll try my best to look for meaning, I promise. Now off to bed both of you." She put her hands on her hips as she signaled them to leave.

"I'll help him out, so he won't get scared. I got a guy who can help." Dante said.

"Is that another prank?" Vergil asked him as they started heading back to their room.

"Nah," Dante answered, his voice smooth, "You can come with me tomorrow if ya want. See for yourself."

* * *

 **..Thank you for reading, criticism, and advice are welcome. It will help me grow.**

 **I wanted to do something different, a change of history and what could have happened if Eva is still alive with them in their teenage years, how the events of dmc 3 will take place and the rest.**

 **Thank you Angel wolf for your help.**


	2. Dead Memories

**Thanks FDR, umm Don't think so, it's just a coincidence.**

 **Chapter 2 - Dead Memories**

* * *

Dreams are hard to come by. She felt herself bankrupt of tremendous imagination that night, so much so that the same problems still plagued her as she awoke. What to do, what to do? She knew Vergil had to go get a job, but that dream worried her so terribly. She wondered why it was affecting him this way, what was causing these bizarre nightmares to take hold over her boy? Whatever the reason, she would get to the bottom of things soon. Upon waking, Eva burrowed herself into the warm, soft sheets. She'd dreamt of amazing things, of neon-colored knights striding across the planes of all existence, and the hammer of Thor coming down upon their fates across the bridge of eternity, sparks of sentient light rocketing across the universe, filling the cosmos with brilliant effervescent life.

There was a great warmth there, one within which she felt absolute peace, as though the troubles of life were microscopic, unthinkable, unknowingly absent.

She rubbed the remainders of sleep from her eyes and gazed out at the horizon, through her opened window; its vivid luminescence extended across a rosy sky, flowing darkness soon coming across the darkening seas. She can already hear her sons voice in the living room, talking and shouting like usual, to get in each other's throats for no reason she could discern apart from sibling's must fight one another. She was an only child, this made it exceptionally difficult to connect with her sons on this point, they were rapidly growing to the age of knowing things about her that soon ruined respect.

Weathering respect or not, this was their house, for however long that could remain the case. She heard the voices eventually lessen in intensity but not in overall disdain.

* * *

"Whoah, look at you mister poetry," Dante laughed, "Nice, what else you got in there?"

The sound of a punch hitting the back of Dante's head made what sounded like a thud.  
He hit his brother back in the shoulder, and the elder brother responded with another thwack to Dante's side.

"You're such a pain in the ass!" Vergil said, retorting with another fist, "That's mine, it had my initials on it, got that? Or do you want me to force it in your brain?"

* * *

She growled to herself, "These two, _I swear!_ " then sighed.

She supposed this was something the majority of people would consider worthy of behavioral adjustment therapy, but she just found it plain irritating, hard sometimes even. But it was still music to her ears in some bizarre motherly instinct. Certainly, it wasn't something she'd ever think of using to justify abusing or hurting her children, they were who they were and that was fine for her. Still, it would be nice for her to wake up one day and not hear them fighting, a little change wouldn't hurt anyone. Most especially her two children, they were of the makings of great men, undoubtedly they already held powers beyond human understanding, control over aspects of physiology that no other could ever dream of, and strength beyond strength. They simply needed an apt teacher.

She pulled herself off the bed and looked at the mirror in her dresser.

Her hair was a bit disheveled. Her skin was more tan than normal, looking quite healthy for a woman as pale as she normally was, it's almost funny.

"You look adorable like that!" She almost heard Sparda's voice commenting behind her.

She missed his giant arms that used to wrap themselves around her, that peculiar cologne he used to wear, his affinity for the color purple of only the most royal shade, his sense of humor, and those eyes. Those blue eyes of his that could've told her the answer to all life's problems, she missed those too. Her room was empty now, he longer shared it with her, and she doubted he ever would again. Just one part of her wished so very badly to see him again, he was gone and she was left here to raise two boys who reminded her exactly of him: was there any greater irony?

She bid him farewell that day so many years ago, his trademark smile there on his face just before he passed.

The petals of the flowers were an array of enchanting, impossible colors; teal, emerald, ruby, amethyst, and pearl, but to her they were only shades of grey. He'd had a natural death out in the backyard. The funny thing about demons, they left no body, so his own passing saw his essence merge with the earth itself, making the lifestream of it that much stronger. In turn, a broad new patch of flora began to grow there, beautiful trees and flowers of peaceful nature grew plentifully in a garden that used to house no possible recourse for even a weed, it was all grass. Not seeing him for so long had been tough enough, but having to deal with her sons' questions about him every once in a while brought back those feelings she had hidden deep in herself. Poor souls, their own father dead and they knew not why, his old age a simple limiter to the life he could lead rather than simple deterioration of the body. She didn't know how to answer their questions, what had happened to him and why, it made dealing with the boys so much more difficult.

But Sparda was like that, he just had those kinds of tests he'd give people, wanting to see if they'd pass. Perhaps learning to live without him was another.

"I miss you." She whispered to the sight outside, "I wish you were here."

* * *

. . .

* * *

The afternoon came and the neighbor's had walked by, admiring Eva's apparent green thumb as usual. She took a breath, an attempt to push away the memories, she had a job to do that day. Eva changed into her black dress and walked out to her sons in front of the T.V changing the channels for no reason. Perhaps they thought they could luck into finding the playboy channel, Dante for apparent reasons, Vergil for . . . research purposes, undoubtedly.

"Breakfast outside: let's go." She announced and walked away.

"Yay." Dante's trademark laconic style presented itself perennially.

"Race you to the spot?" Vergil shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess." Dante said, jumping to his feet in a lazy manner while his brother ran through the door, opening the door already.

* * *

He wondered why he even tried competing with Vergil, he'd certainly stopped in recent months. There just wasn't a point anymore, his brother always made a point of defeating him.

That didn't stop Vergil from trying his damndest to assert himself. He was the dominant brother of the two, which apparently gave him the right to lord himself the 'man' of the house.  
Why mother never put a stop to that, he didn't know, in fact, she was quite absent from their lives as a parent the last year. Not that she'd admit that, he thought it a dumb thing to bring up.  
Still, it bothered him, she wasn't there, she didn't care, she never spoke to him unless it was to do something, or because they broke something, in essence, whenever they were wrong.

Why had she become this way? She wasn't sweet anymore, when dad was here, they all got along . . . Now she's distant, short with them.

Whatever, he just wanted food at this point. If it were up to him he'd be out living in the world, he knew he was strong enough to handle it.

* * *

 **. . .**

* * *

The spot was surrounded by towering Magnolia trees, serenity accompanying the distant chirping of birds that penetrated the silence.  
The murmuring winds and the sounds of the leaves rustling added to the charm, something the family loved to listen to, at least a while ago.

Now, it was just Eva it seemed who enjoyed the hearing. Vergil, maybe he did too, but he was too busy reading to notice currently.

Dante . . . Now there was the one who adamantly chose not to care, and he made his dislike of the situation known through the language of his body.

She didn't realize that she'd be served discontent for breakfast.

Eva spread the avocado lightly over the toast and laid slices of tomato on top as if it were a cake layer. There was a joy in how she did it, as if for a moment she was happily absorbed by a feeling of love that played in her subtle smile and soft gaze. The fairness of her hair glowed rose gold in the morning sunlight, the sun had risen early at 5:30 approximately that day. She gave the prepared meals over to the boys, one for each of them and one for herself as well, the breakfast that became a part of the rhythm of their lives together.

Vergil circled his index finger above slightly toward Dante, he conjured up a cyan blade rotating fast.

Dante chomped down with a growl and looked away, annoyed, "Will ya stop showing off? I know you can do better than me."

Vergil smirked, enjoying the moment.

"I didn't know you can do that." Eva said impressed, an underlying sense of worry also present.

She hadn't anticipated he'd learn this fast, it was getting odd for him to have improved this fast.

Vergil gazed at her, a sense of pride slowly taken over, "I've been practicing for quite a while now. _'He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.'_ "

Once he spoke the last word he looked at Dante with a mocking glare.

"There's also the fact that you're a tight ass who doesn't know how to have fun." Dante fired back at him.

Eva frowned, "That's enough Dante."

Dante scowled at them both and looked away. The moment was over, there was the 'issue' that must be dealt with by the end of that day, figuring out Vergil's dream.

She took the book she brought with her and started looking through it. This was an old book created by a friend of Sparda who was also knowledgeable about dreams and how they work.

Darkness can mean many things, loss of one's self, losing out on ambitions, danger approaching . . .

She kept flipping through the pages speed-reading, looking for any clear pieces of information, 'til she stumbled upon something.

"Vergil-sweetie, look at this," She signaled for him to get closer.

"This says your dreams might be indicative of a transformative even to come in the future. You see, it might be a good thing." She said.

"Uh, okay." He mumbled.

Eva placed her hands on both of his shoulders, "Oh honey, don't worry."

Dante grumbled to himself, "Oh god."

"Do you have to something to add?" Eva nearly snapped, her voice becoming deeper as it often did when angered.

"Uh yeah, so whatever might happen, he needs us to watch over to make sure this whole transformative thing won't happen?" Dante asked lazily, he paused for a moment watching the two of them.

She babied him, always. She gave Vergil all the love necessary. Why couldn't he get that? From anyone, anywhere, not just his mom.  
He felt lonely in his chest, his mother's love a passe ritual neither one was interested in entertaining anymore, he desired something new.  
It isn't like he would wish ill upon his brother, this feels like he was . . . left out all of sudden.

"Excuse me." He slid off the seat and left, walking away somewhere.

He chose the house entrance to stay and think for a moment.

That loneliness grew steadily until it dominated his emotions. What started out as a nagging feeling became so much stronger, it was all he could feel. The pain and the hurt in him was no longer anything he could stand, and he felt the black archway of the house's common structure a perfect metaphor, he was also empty and average. He resolved to break out of his comfort zone. A trip downtown he'd take and someone else he would choose to go home with. He was old enough, he didn't care what mother dearest thought. But . . . that's selfish of him. His brother might genuinely be in serious danger. It was just a dream but these days you couldn't trust in even that. Here he was feeling unnerved. He didn't like the closeness of his brother with his mother, it was awkward.

He took a deep breath and with all of his might he pushed these thoughts away, he needed to go back for the time being.

These thoughts of his own desires would have to wait, he couldn't go letting his old brother screw things up now.

* * *

 **. . .**

Hustling and bustling, they were bumping into people, toes trodden on, the scent of freshly slaughtered meat hanging from hooks,

A man frantically searched for his missing dog, shopkeepers screamed out offers at the top of their voices to attract customers and customers desperately tried to bargain for the best possible prices. This was the closest market to that alley, ironically, a place which was always drowning in a sea of people. Not a single empty place could be spotted between the stalls. Some held a hand against their forehead to shield themselves from the sun, others made flimsy fans out of newspapers or magazines. The daylight mercilessly shone down upon the market beaming down intense rays of sunshine. Eva usually came to this place when she didn't feel like making that haul all the way out to the middle of the city for some shopping with or without the boys.

Groceries were the simple target here. She needed the nicest stuff possible, maybe some arts and crafts as well for her odd painting habits. Everyone needs to destress somehow.

"It's right over there," Vergil commented to the empty part of the market, where troubles lingered. His breath quickened and his eyes flared.

"Let's go then." Eva commented, forcing Dante forward, "I'll be nearby if there's any trouble, okay?"

"Oh yeah, sure . . . great pep talk mom." He muttered as he plodded forward towards the alleyway, leading his brother.

Vergil felt relieved by Eva's words, even though supposedly his dream didn't necessarily mean anything dangerous. He was still worried, a little too much for his own sake. He wore his usual clothes, a blue coat with a grey shirt, brown boots and black slacks, Yamato hidden from sight. Dante wore the red coat his father had left to him, and simple black tee underneath it, general brown cargo's and black boots completing the ensemble.

Eva wore pants with that dress, it was more practical on a day when you might have to fight.

...

 **Thank you for reading...**

 **I wanted this chapter to be a bit longer, but it works like this as well.**

 **Please do criticize if there is anything, it would help me improve :)**


	3. Through The Never

**This chapter is a bit dark.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Through The Never**

* * *

Perhaps, years back, this street was bathed in pools of yellow light from the weather battered street lamps.

Their paint no doubt was smooth, the sable hues interrupted by the chunks of grey undercoat that grew ever more closely clustered, as if they were some strange, unwanted bacterial growth. The concrete of the lane cracked and sun-bleached, too quick to criticize were they, the darkened alleyway a simple metaphor for the nature of time. The street behind them, out beyond the supposed safety of the sidewalk, there flowed a river of abandoned cars, rusting out in the brilliant August sunshine. They were empty, left behind when fleeing on foot became faster. There are _no_ people. Newspapers tumbled around the asphalt as if caught in invisible laundry machines. The trees creaked, silently screaming in place as their limbs strained against the onslaught.

Vergil took a few steps and his eyes observed around him the decaying corpse of the city. Dilapidated foundations and odd structural defects informed him on the city's old age and lack of upkeep.

Something felt sincerely twisted, almost bleakly hellish about this place, he couldn't quite place his finger on it.  
His demonic inheritance started to sense a foe, a strange and very alien being nearby, but at the same time, it felt as though it were unknowable.  
Out of sight, out of style, out of mind, shut out from their existence into some other, ethereal place; lord knows why or when.

The sound of irregular movement interrupted his train of thoughts. A black speech followed that which made this atmosphere feel overwhelmingly heavy and cold.

He could see his own breath poor out of his lips.

It spoke to him the word of hell through tongues, and when it registered within Vergil somehow, someway, he felt night time descend mid-day, then dread swallowed him whole.

"Show yourself . . ." He whispered, drawing out his katana, a circling cyan blade materializing at his shoulder just for added protection.

What he saw in front of him, the thing that emerged from a brewing fog in the distant alley's endless hall, it made his blood freeze.

* * *

 **. . .**

* * *

"Vergil?" Dante called to him. He wouldn't answer.

Dante investigated the alleyway himself, but felt no presence, there was not even a sign of his brother. To him, the whole place was empty.  
It was a quaint place, one that lacked any kind of deeper meaning. The cars were eerie, certainly, but it was just a collection of unwanted rubble.

Nothing to be scared of.

"Jeez man, come out. I know you're just playing it up, there's nothing out here." He said aloud.

The alley kept going on for a long time, wandering endlessly. He wondered where Vergil had gone, the two having been separated at some point, tho he strangely could not remember when.

They were walking, and suddenly, Vergil just wasn't there.

He kept searching, pressing ahead through this seemingly unending hall, but when he reached the end, he found no one, it was simply the back of a building.  
Where had his brother been hiding? Logic dictated he'd have to be here, or somewhere nearby. He knew a neat-freak like Vergil wouldn't ever hide himself in a dumpster.

He looked around, just to make sure no one was looking out their window, and he leapt up off his feet, scaling the wall.

Seizing the edge, he pulled himself up and landed on his feet quickly. He scanned the area all in front of him, then turned and scanned all that he could survey behind him.  
Across all the rooftops, in the entirety of this old borough, there was nothing, no trace of his brother whatsoever. He wasn't the best guy, but Dante knew he had to find his sibling.

He couldn't come back home without him, their mother already tended to favor Vergil over him.

Stepping over the edge, he came back down, landing effortlessly. He walked back the other way and found something curious about the alley itself. It was far shorter coming out than it was going in. He was shocked at how short of a gap it was by comparison to the trek forward the other way. What made that worse was that on the way back he spotted something he hadn't noticed before.

Just a few feet away from him, alone on its side, laid Yamato without its owner.

He saw it and turned his head back. The alley had returned to it's previous length, stretching on impossibly long. His eyes widened briefly as he still saw no trace of Vergil.

What was this place? It made no fundamental sense.

"Mom!" He called out worriedly.

She didn't answer either. Had she vanished also?

" _Mom!_ " He barked, and he heard the pitter patter of her scurrying footsteps.

Soon she appeared out from around the corner, sprinting towards her son in red. The moment Eva saw the sword, her head raced.

"Dante . . ." She spoke terrified, "Where's Vergil?"

"I don't- I don't know." He said quietly.

"Wasn't he with you? Where is he-"

"-I don't know! . . . He- I mean, h-he was here and then he- He's not here, I don't know where the fuck he went!" He spoke firmly, growing more frustrated with every passing word.

It had been an attempt to head off her motherly concern.

That didn't help.

"What do you mean? He's either here or he's not here! Where is he!? Are you playing with me?" She was screaming at him now, "Do _not_ screw with me, kid, where's your brother?"

"I told you I don't know! He's not here, the only thing I found was his sword." The teenager defended himself.

"You were _next to each other_ for Christ's sake, what do you mean you don't know where he is!?" She replied, yelling.

"I dunno mom, maybe he got tired of your voice." The boy yelled back.

Eva reared her head and gasped, " _Excuse you?_ " She said, enraged.

Dante closed his eyes and tried to calm down, explaining as rationally as he could, "Look, we were walking and then he was just gone! Okay? There's nothing more to it than that, he just vanished-"

"Shut up, you little brat! How dare you talk to me like that, Vergil's missing and you, you just don't get it." Eva was fuming, looking at her son with accusatory eyes.

"I. Have. **No idea**! I don't know what happened to him, you think I'd have called you if it were my fault!?" The boy lashed out back at her, they were eye to eye.

Dante had grown so tall already, and he was still so young. He didn't understand why his mother grew so angry with him, seeking to draw blood from him for a crime he didn't commit. His own fury had grown to match hers, and she was taken aback by his sheer resilience to her suggestion that he wasn't being serious. Of course, whenever he joked, he had that dry sense of sarcasm that didn't vibe with her increasing weariness, so what was the point during a crisis like this?

"Don't talk back to me, where the hell is my son!?" She yelled.

That moment she saw Dante's expression break.

"Oh, so I don't count?" Dante replied instantly, "Good to know, look for him by yourself then." He said and started to walk past her.

She placed her arm in front of him and tried shoving him back in front of her.  
It didn't work, he just stood still and resisted the force easily. He looked at her.

"Where do you think you're going, young man?" She said.

"I don't know, but I'm _not_ staying here."

Eva paused for a moment and took her breath. This is bad, "Look, let's just grab your brother and go home, we need to talk."

"Nope, we're not talking." He said and grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand off him.

The boy continued to walk away but felt her hand smack the back of his head.

He froze in place and looked back at her, the woman clutching her hand tightly.

His cold-hearted stare was vacant, and she knew she'd done him poorly, she was a terrible mother. The boy walked away without words or apology.

He sought to burn his recollections here and slowly fled the scene striding away to a better destiny for himself that he knew she couldn't provide for him, and though her motherly love was strong, it was a fading star in his endless expanding galaxy, crying out inside his black song to a distant planet that could no longer hear her siren. She was left to her own devices, left to wither in this desperately decaying bastion of dead dreams. She made up her mind to deal with that boy later, if she could ever find him.

* * *

 **. . .**

* * *

From within the fog, Vergil spotted the figure of a slender woman, striding across the dead tar of the backstreet, sex and sin present in her every quality. As Vergil's virginal eyes met with the bewitching body of the woman before him, the breeze that once felt as though it would last as long as night decided to die down, giving way to naught but the deceivingly peaceful silence of the darkness, removed from his previous time to one that he was not familiar with. Her voice was just as fair and and velvety as her visage led him to believe.

Who was she? A question he'd not thought of asking till mere moments ago, fading out in the cold.

She wore a black dress of scandalous fit, and the red-haired woman came to stand face to face with him, her wispy features and soft ruby lips reaching towards his.  
Her kiss was pure corruption, and he grew to respond to her affections unexpectedly, sparks dancing across her tongue into his mouth like high voltage running through heavy rivers.  
She led the young boy across the alley towards a door she summoned from nowhere that opened to an old Spanish room.

She turned away from him and invited the boy to unzip the garment held loosely to her frame.

It was instantaneous, her supple skin soothing his youthful exuberance, and a woman of experience you did not turn away.

She took to the bed and he felt so many new things he'd not yet admitted to having lusted after for years, things constructs such as age prevented him from expressing.

He knew not how old she was, only that her name spoke itself to him through the acts they were engaging in, Jezebeth. She spoke of wondrous places and people, each one more fantastical than the last, each time she rode him. Like a ship in a storm, she rocked back and forth, enabling the boy in her the worst possible policies, and together they sowed the makings of an evil child unborn. Nestling his head in her chest, she let him suckle at her bosom the lifeblood of all demons, the unholy milk of nature's darkest aspects. Warm hands embraced his naked back, and he felt more loved than he had ever been, she seemed to know exactly everything he desired. Tossing and turning, he allowed her to lead him. Soon he knew the correct solutions, irrespective of time, memory, or place.

The room was dark, dimly lit to accommodate their repeated sessions, over and over again, each time the boy learning more and more till he grew to become mature-minded.

And then he was in control, as she had demanded him from the start to be, his hands around her waist, pumping actions into her as she knelt forward on the sheets.

Orientation mattered little to his infusion, the end ambition was to drive him to his most stygian intuition, the desires that no mortal man could live with, and soon, after so many hours, he did so.

Collapsed on the bed together, she laid on top of him, her nude body limply draped over him, sweating.  
He remained beneath her so still, her crimson hair smelling sweet like flowers in bloom, a testament to her fertile beauty.

She'd walked out of his dreams, stitched together from memories of women long since gone, and poems read but long since forgotten. He was a fan of classics, a classical beauty was therefore what he desired. She'd made him feel so silly with his wanton childishness, his desire to merely be stronger than just his brother. How pathetic. Vergil had been chasing after a token of strength that meant nothing, he could not gleam true power or wisdom from a simple rivalry, and he most certainly could not continue down the path of always being looked after by his mother. The time had come for him to protect her, for him to take on his father's mantle. Lord knew his younger brother was too irresponsible for that role, too childish and young. He knew better now, Jezebeth's careless whispers of knowledge-grand nurtured in his ears as they made love, affirming for him his old ways were inefficient. The path forward was through might and conquest.

Peace and love were cruelly inefficient.

But for now, for him at least, the only goal he sought was more of her warmth, more of her twisted affection, as it's been the only one he'd become aware of.

And to her credit, the woman knew this, appealing to him her secrets of the dark gates, of which she was the keeper; for only him would she grant the key.

She would take him through the never, filling his mind with knowledge of the world, as for now, knowledge was power, and knowledge would lead to strength of many other facets.

In time, this was how he fell unto the murkiness, within the shade of the twilight world, where time ceased to exist, and his own emotions fell away, replaced by thirst.

* * *

 **. . .**

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **Trust me I'm not turning Eva into a bitch, I'm just showing here that she isn't perfect, she made mistakes with the way she treats her boys.  
** **This would lead to very good development, especially with Dante. I kind of get the idea that if she were alive, she'd baby Vergil more, and that's part of the reason he's the way he is, almost sort of spoiled a lot of the time whenever he interacts with Dante, as if he's almost ungrateful for everything he's obtained and just wants more. There's a psychological reason for his personality that I wanted to explore.**

 **Thank you, Angel wolf**


	4. Cure

**Chapter 4 - Cure**

* * *

He stood on the brink of something He couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders and he struggled to take even a single step forward. There was a crushing suffocation across his chest compressed into his bones, and it was simply too much to bear. All of it. But somehow, he kept moving, and every step cost him.

 _"Where is my son?" "Shut up, you little brat!"_

The words kept repeating in his mind, and they were like a thousand stabs to his heart. The darkness grew darker, the pain grew sharper, it seemed to only grow in strength and he began to wonder if things could ever return to a healthier state. But he never said a word to anyone. Sometimes he wondered if that smile, the horribly fake smile, was ever seen through. If someone ever noticed that sad, broken look in his eyes that he'd seen in the mirror, he thought it would certainly be the end of him.

He'd been walking out and about for three hours now and no matter how tired he felt, returning home was not an option . . . yet.

Dante had gone through the market, the bars, through the shops and the apartment complexes, all the way to the coffee outlet their mom frequented when she wanted to read a book in silence.

It was about fifteen miles away from home.

Dante slammed his hand into a nearby dumpster, his knuckles broke right through the metal, leaving a jagged hole. He barely recognized the woman that had struck him.

That was not his mother, not the one he knew, nor the one he understood, it was a cruelly disguised harlot content to tear away at his humanity till he was left bleeding and begging.

Once he focused ahead of himself, he saw a blue one-story house, decorated thoroughly for a holiday he hadn't cared to remember. It was a small thing, built into the corner of their Spanish townscape, past the Mission now-used as a church on a block of diverse shops. What a sight it was, the only house painted vividly out of a hundred other brownstone buildings, styled traditionally. Without realizing it, his legs had led him to her house, of all people. Yara was an older woman he'd known ever since he was twelve. He'd come here many, many times, and hid himself away from the world's prying eyes.

With a sigh, he knocked on the door, unsure if he would even find her this time of night or not.

At first, there was silence. He knocked again and he heard her voice, "Who is it?"

He was silent for a moment, wondering if he truly desired to be here.

"Uh, hey . . . It's me." He answered.

The door opened revealing a brown-haired woman in a night gown. Her skin was tan, and her face was always a visual splendor, though he hadn't expected her to be wearing as little as she was. It was a short thing, though it's yellow-coloring complimented her figure quite well. Seeing her always put a smile on his face. She was surprised to see the young man at her front door.

"Dante?" She murmured, "What are you doing here?"

He bit his lips, trying to think of what to say.

"Ah," He finally said, "It's a long, stupid story . . . May I come in?" He asked.

Yara raised an eyebrow.

"Um, sure." She said and stepped aside.

The boy marched inside, and he saw that her house had remained untouched in the years since he'd last been inside. There to the left was her couch that bordered the entrance pathway, itself filling in a cozy little den where he often watched television. To his right was her closet, beyond which to its further right lay a hallway off to the bedroom. Directly in front of him lay the kitchen, a small hidey-hole for foods bought down at the Italian market.

She watched him enter, and it seemed as though a murky gloom hung over him.

"Okay, what exactly happened?" She asked, he said nothing.

The young man sat down on the couch, unable to look her in the eyes. Yara sat down beside him, worried.

"Dante, talk to me."

"I just figured out I don't really matter." He spoke lowly.

"What do you mean, what happened?" It still didn't matter much to her what he did with his time.

"I got into a fight with my mom." He said with a sigh, "And, uh, she ended up telling me that Vergil meant more to her than I did."

She looked at him confused, "What? That's impossible, Eva's-"

"She didn't say it to me directly, it was more indirect. We couldn't find Vergil and he- god, I didn't know what to do." He warbled, "One second he was there, the next he wasn't, and then mom came and she- I just tried to tell her what I saw, all I was trying to say was that I didn't know where he went. She just- she didn't get what I was saying."

She touched his shoulders and held onto him. She pulled him close for a hug and he fell into her embrace.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. I'm sorry." She whispered, "People make mistakes, your mother didn't mean to hurt you. She was only trying to care for the both of you."

"She screamed at me . . ." he replied, "It was like she couldn't hear what I was saying, she just assumed I was guilty. I'm always guilty."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She told him.

She held his head and had him lay back on her chest, tapping his shoulders ever so often. He wasn't quite sure how appropriate this was, he could smell her perfume, and he felt entranced by her beauty. It was a human grace he couldn't quite explain, though he knew she had been widowed just before they had met. It always felt wrong of him to be noticing this, as though the simple act of acknowledging beauty was a perverse attraction he could not be rid of.

The darkness in his chest grew and smothered the moral flame in him to a whimpering smolder, and in from the roots of it came an altogether different feeling.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be blameless to me." She told him.

And she pressed her lips to his forehead. She pecked at his cheek as he remained helplessly drawn to her, and then as he looked up at her, she kissed his lips. It was an innocent thing, a supple suffusion of youth with experience, the link between them growing from old friends and acquaintances to a grown attraction that had long existed unspoken. Slowly, the truth of their bond became a reality. And he enjoyed that kiss, her soft tan skin gracing his sculpted pale form like the balance of light and darkness in ancient legends, a yin becoming one with yang. She hadn't anticipated his arrival that evening, and he hadn't anticipated her to return what he felt was a forbidden attraction, yet there it was. And she comforted him for hours on end, bringing him out of that darkness to the salvation of his human soul. For him came the experience of life through a chance encounter with his far-away neighbor, the woman a thirty-six-year-old sooth to his youthful aggression.

Humanity was not a virus, as he had once thought, but a beautiful living creation that was worth protecting. She showed him many things and he listened intently. As a student does with their master, he kept mind and body open to the new things that would elicit knowledge and pleasure, and the transformation of young delinquent to strongly-built man was completed wholesale, her secrets a cauldron of lustful mirth. Into the red light he went, carried to the final throes of life swimmingly, an unknowing reflection of what had transpired in dark corners of the earth.

Till the black of night lightened with the approach of dawn did they lay together, content that, for the moment, this was a union most-deserving. He had felt that relief he so desperately sought.

"Took you long enough." She told him.

He sighed, sitting upright upon her bed, "You must say that to all the boys."

She smacked his arm, "Hey, I'm not a 7-11 here, these legs close."

He smirked, "Ya know I'm never serious when I say these things, right?"

The woman sighed and sat up, running her fingers through his hair, "Yes."

He remained silent and stared down at the sheets between them.

"Mom's still gonna be pissed at me when I go home."

"Look, I know about Eva, she isn't like this normally, I promise. Whatever you've done, she won't remain very mad for long. You're her son and she loves you." Her words were spoken with love and honor.

He wanted to believe her, but what had happened today said otherwise. The tone of her voice, the lack of empathy towards him and the greater concern displayed for his brother told him that she played favorites, she understood exactly what she was doing and how she'd hurt him. Whenever anyone had thrashed a whip across his beating heart, he remained calm, a unique feature of a callous devil's son. A hybrids life was a lifeless distinction that greyed and withered the more it was examined, could he be human or devil? He felt mortal with every passing day, yet he knew it wasn't true.

Her voice tore him from his thoughts, "Look, I got no doubt that she's worried about you now. She's just waiting for you to come back home."

Dante's eyes fell to the ground, as he disagreed with her once more.

"Nah, I don't think that's true."

Yara heaved a long sigh, holding back the urge to call Eva now and thrust upon her an earful.

"You're welcome to stay here for a while." She said and stood up, "I'll make us something to eat."

* * *

 ** _. . . a time earlier . . ._**

* * *

Eva wandered the ally, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Vergil! _Vergil!_ Please!"

The silence was eerily unnatural, the feeling of dawn devoid of birdsong. Silence clung to her flesh like a poisonous cloud that would choke the life from her any moment. Stillness seeped into her every pore, like a poison slowly paralyzing her from either speech or movement. The night rolled over bringing the threat of a storm. Light was covered rapidly by falling night. The bright blue sky transformed into a black cosmic ocean. Shimmering stars illuminated the moonless ebony sky, as if to remind the people that even in darkness there still existed light. The air hung heavy, thick clouds covering half the sky. A cool breeze swept through alienated street, owls wistfully gliding silently overhead, and even shadows themselves were swallowed by the encroaching dusk.

And panic overran her mind, removing any rationality from her, heart bursting with adrenaline. Why did it come to this? Her family was lost from, Dante left enraged by her familial concern, unable to bear her harshness any longer, and Vergil, the boy left frostbitten by the disappearance of the father, vanished in thin air, and she could not seem to find him no matter how hard she searched. She stopped on a street corner and fell to her knees.

Her hair covered her face from view, shoulders shaking with each emotion she felt.

What kind of mother was she?

"Mother." Out of nowhere, his voice came to her. Quickly, she looked up to see Vergil standing there, as he retrieved Yamato off the ground from where she'd left it.

"Vergil!?" Her voice broke, as she jumped on him with open arm, "Oh my god- what . . . where have you been?" Her voice was shaking.

"I got lost, somewhere." His tone was deadpan.

Eva pulled back to look at him "What? What happened? The demon!" She suddenly remembered, "Did you fight the demon from your dreams?"

Vergil's face was like a piece of marble, there are no emotions what's so ever.

He simply sighed, "Nothing to worry about here. There was no demon. Let's go home."

Eva remained still for a solitary moment, watching her emotionless son move so controlled and experienced as he left her side and carried on forward. He didn't even explain one thing.

"Wh- Wait!" She called after him, "We can't leave, not yet. We need to find Dante."

The very moment she spoke his name, Vergil gazed back at her, annoyed. What a fool that boy was, his apprehension for the darkness that they inhabited a weakness he'd soon come to regret. Dante was not a boy to be saved, he was a child to be shunned, a momentary annoyance that would only serve to slow the man down in his newfound quest. The world fell into place now, it had made sense for the first time since he'd graced its blackened soil.

"What would be the purpose of saving that immature fool?" He replied, "You have me now. I am all you require."

Eva blinked at him, ". . . _What_ did you just say?"

"I believe you heard correctly."

There was silence for a moment before she continued, "He's your brother, don't speak about him like that."

"Your wish is my command." He grumbled.

She eyed him strangely, placing a hand on her hip, "I don't want to hear you speak of him that way again, got it?"

Vergil remained silent, his face darkening. The man charged on ahead without a single utterance.

There was a feeling that struck her gut. Her boy Vergil entered, someone else walked out.

She knew her boys didn't exactly get along well, at times even despising one another, but it was always only a sibling rivalry, a matter of children's ego. What Vergil had just spoken was akin to a lion suggesting it should rip out its brother's throat. Maybe she was just paranoid now, and he was only angry that Dante was not there with him at the time of his disappearance. She tried to assure herself, as she followed him and his insistent path home, the wayward stars carrying him off to their humble abode capably. Maybe Dante had gone there as well. A talk needed to be had between them.

Once they had returned home, she hurried inside before Vergil.

"Dante!" She called out.

There wasn't an answer.

She ran upstairs and opened their bedroom door, "Dante?"

But the room was dark and empty.

Vergil walked behind her and turned on the light, "So, he isn't here after all . . . I'm sure he'll come back once he cools off."

Eva ignored him and tore down the stairs for the living room, returning exactly where she could see the street, peering away through the frigid windows. Where had he gone? Regret washed over her like long-slow waves of a shallow beach. Each ripple was ice-cold and sent shivers down her spine. How she longed to return to those few moments and take a different path. In her heart, she retracted all the bad things she had ever said.

The remorse would eat at her.

"I'm going out to look for him."

"Mother, wait . . ." She heard him say, but she would no longer wait.

She ran out of the front road and travelled in a search for her son, aimless, lost and alone, freezing to her core. He must be somewhere. Hurrying through the dirt-paths, her mind descending to certain places Dante usually had frequented when he desired to be alone. There was no one in the park but an old gent who appeared to be reading a newspaper. Eva paused at the park gate, the greenery already charcoal and two dimensional while the greying path melted into the night.

She shivered. She didn't have long. Walking quickly, she called out to him, "Dante!"

Traversing the streets across to his usual habits, it was a fruitless effort as still, he was nowhere to be seen.

Defeated, she sat down on a public wood bench, a heavy weight resting on her shoulders. Tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She felt her chin tremble like a small child's and she looked toward the street light as if it could have soothed her. There was static in her head once more, the side effect of this constant stress she was forced to live with. Her family had fallen apart, she lacked that which would have allowed her to know what it was she could've done.

* * *

. . .

* * *

It was around six in the morning when Dante entered the house. It felt equivocally to be like shit coming back, but there was nowhere else to go, this despite the kindness of the forbidden woman with which he slept. This, for all its destructive memories, was his home, at least for now till he could do something, anything he could to move away, to escape this home of madness and superstition.

Quietly, he shut the door behind him, and an unexpected sight welcomed him.

His mother sat sleeping, her soft head resting on the table right near the entrance.

Her face was red and puffy. Why was she here? Had she been worried about him? Out of habit, he reached out to touch her shoulder. Eva flinched and opened her eyes.

"Dante?" she called out, voice rusty.

Dante froze for a moment, unsure of what to do about this. It took her many moments to fully wake and realize it was truly him standing before her.

She reached out and touched his arm, "You're . . . here?"

The man stayed silent, expecting a terrible scream to come his way, as there always had been.

Her hands came to his silky hair and his rugged face, touching him, with unrestrained happiness.

"Oh my god, oh my god," her voice cracked, hot tears stinging her cheeks, "Please . . . Please don't run away, I'm here! I'm here for you, _please_ don't go . . . I'm so sorry for being so hard on you."

He felt a lump form in the back of his throat, the tell-tale sign that he was due himself to cry. She sought to embrace him, to wash away her crass mistakes as a mother, the pain and sorrow that she had so inflicted upon him, and she looked to his cold blue eyes for forgiveness. What came from him was an unexpected warmth, a kindness she had not yet observed from him, the look in his eyes the same as his father's ancient charm. That which withered began to grow again, and the man held her in his strong arms, loving her unconditionally.

"It's okay, mom." He told her, "You don't have to apologize."

She pulled back from him and gazed into his eyes.

"I acted poorly as well. "

She saw that a bright light had been cast, awakening something with his soul that she could not explain by any rational thought. Much as the other twin, he had changed somehow.

The purity of his kindness was monolithic, standing as a great stone of a mountain's pregnant belly, shaped by human hands to become one with mortal nature. What had he seen on that long walk out? She wondered this repeatedly, and as he kissed her forehead, he placed her gently back on the chair and turned back towards the stairway that led to his room. He knew exactly now what had been lacking within him before, the sense of understanding of humanity. He had been blinded by the shadows cast by the legacy he had yet to fully inherit, split across his own brother's childish desire for superiority. Long had he lacked the descent sense to simply ignore it, to walk on and be with humanity just as his father had, the hallowed man of ancient time and immortal heroism, passed down now to his boys a desire to explore that which they've become heirs to: Demoniacs and Humanities.

"Good night." He simply said and walked off into that darkness, the darkness of their own home laying heavy upon the air like fog, and he left her behind.

Eva felt calmness now, a philosophical relaxation that cured her poisonous beliefs of broken minds and destroyed, pernicious emotions. Truly, she knew Dante was a man untethered by childish longings of the past, as always he seemed to be devoid of the need for her parentage, as if the way forward had always been with him and he lacked the vagrancy of most children. He knew where he was and where he would be going, it was only Vergil that had kept her worried. To him, it seemed to be that the way forward was through strength and power, wisdom of the mind be damned.

She understood the truth of him. Vergil was the one to watch, the one that she knew needed guidance before this desire for supremacy would grow too great to overcome.

The truth of him, Vergil, the boy still lost and finding his way, scaring her so deeply that he would fall to the worst inhibitions.

The fear . . . that he may already have done so.

"Sparda!" She whispered." I'm sorry."

* * *

 _ **To be continued.**_

 _ **Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed this one.**_

 _ **Until the next update.**_


	5. Update

Hey everybody, just a heads up, It's gonna take me a while to update. but I'm around.

I'm gonna try to finish up a good amount of the story first, then I start updating here. Sorry about that I feel like this would be better for me.

...

What happened... That was so over the top it's ridiculous. FDR I think that person is a major troll (At least I hope.) Because that's crazy.

Last time I was already going through a tough time and I guess I fell for the trap.

Anyone who reads this, that person is reaching so hard just to make me some kind of a bad person...over a story?

That was far from constructive criticism.


End file.
